In the Garden of Eden
by MadMar
Summary: In the Garden of Eden, there was bliss. But it was only a matter of time before darkness fell and they were cast out. Erik/Nadir. Series of one-shots. CANCELLED.


A/N: A third Erik/Nadir phic! This one is actually supposed to be a series of Persia!phics and this is the first. It's not slash yet, merely friendship, but it will develop.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.

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The day had been oppressively hot, as it always seemed to be when Nadir Khan returned from the city to actually manage his humble estate. He'd spent the better part of the day (and the term better was very loosely applied) taking inventory of and tending to his livestock and then seeing to household repairs. Unlike most of his contemporaries at court, Nadir hadn't a wife to manage his household for him whenever he was away on business. It had been six long and painful years since Nadir's wife, Rookheeya passed away and there was no woman Nadir allowed into his life long enough for him to even consider marrying. And yet, the idea of marriage had come up throughout the course of the week. The ever-opinionated Prime Minister, Mirza Taqui Khan, had made pointed commentary against men foolish enough to believe themselves self-reliant. Nadir had, of course, taken the jibe from his superior good-naturedly, but it plagued him internally, even now, days later.

Yes, as night closed in on the Daroga of Mazenderan, he couldn't help but to excuse himself to his gardens for some quiet reflection on the whole prospect. It wasn't as though the suggestion was without merit. Nadir desperately needed someone to manage his household in his absence, but it wasn't the husbandry of his livestock or the broken fence posts that gave the idea its worth. Nadir sighed. No. The household management and repairs were things he could handle. What he couldn't handle, was knowing that his only and beloved son was dying. Each day Nadir was away, Reza would lose another pound. Soon, there'd be nothing left at all. His sight was failing—and by failing, Nadir meant the boy was practically blind—and walking was nearly impossible. It was only a matter of time before….

Nadir swallowed hard and he felt a pair of eyes upon him.

"You hardly touched your supper, Daroga."

Erik. Nadir should have known. No one else in the world—certainly no one else in Nadir's household—could be so quiet as Erik in arriving. Nadir sighed and didn't look at him.

"What's it matter to you if I skip a meal or two? It's not as if _you_ actually eat."

Erik coughed. "I never eat more than once a day, but I've never known you to pass up a hearty meal."

Nadir glowered, but said nothing. Instead, he folded his arms and turned his eyes skyward as to ignore Erik. But Nadir did not find comfort in the stars. To him, they were cold and glaring and the dark, black void seemed a distant and looming threat.

"What's troubling you, Nadir?" Erik asked.

This time, his voice was gentler and plying. Nadir couldn't help but look at the masked man curiously. He could see no traces of irony or sarcasm in Erik's eyes. Of course, he never fully trusted Erik. Despite the friendship blossoming between them, the fact remained that Erik was a willful murderer, horrid opium addict, and an incorrigible thief. It wasn't such a stretch to think he was only acting concerned for some ulterior motive. And yet, for all evidence to the contrary, Nadir found Erik irresistibly likeable and refreshingly honest… At least where he was concerned.

"The Prime Minister thinks I should remarry," Nadir said with a hint of venom. "For my son's sake."

"Ah."

A silence spread over the two men and Erik came to stand by Nadir. Neither man motioned to look at each other. Nadir had turned his eyes heavenward again; Erik had plucked a rose from a nearby bush and was nervously twirling it in his expressive fingers.

"I assume that you won't, for fear of dishonoring your late wife?" Erik asked after several long minutes.

Nadir looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow. "You do know what they say about people who assume, Erik?"

Erik's mismatched eyes crinkled upward with an unseen smile.

"Indeed, I do." He paused, and then, tentatively asked, "So… will you remarry?"

Nadir shrugged expressively and looked away again, this time at the rosebush. "For what purpose? You told me yourself that there is no cure for Reza's illness. As loathe as I am to agree with you, he's gotten so _thin_, Erik. He's not much more than skin and bones."

"Nothing wrong with that. I've made my livelihood as skin and bones," Erik said ironically. Then, meeting Nadir's eye, added, "You will want company when he's gone."

Nadir sighed. "Company? Believe me, Erik; the company of a new wife will always pale in comparison to Rookheeya. Even to you. Allah knows what I'd do without your sharp wit and infuriating logic to keep me sane."

"I suspect you'd find some other poor devil to harp on."

"Stop that, Erik. I don't harp on you."

"Liar," Erik breathed with a dry laugh. "You just don't even realize you're doing it."

"When did I harp on you?"

"Just now." Erik paused, and then, pitching his voice higher, mimicked, "'Stop that, Erik.' Good Lord, you _are_ a nag. If you do remarry, your new wife has my undying sympathy."

The two men chuckled for a moment. But Nadir couldn't help but to wonder, what _would_ he do without Erik? He couldn't envision anyone else—not even Rookheeya—being so supportive of him and Reza, so gentle and patient with the boy; so understanding of Nadir; so strong to help and bear the burden. It felt blasphemous to even think, for even a moment, that _Erik_—of all people!—was a better companion that Rookheeya. Nadir shifted from foot to foot in order to shake the thought. He hoped Erik took no note of it.

But Nadir immediately knew he should not be so foolish to hope for half a second that Erik didn't notice.

"Did I hurt your fragile feelings, Nadir?" Erik asked, a lilt to his voice. "Perhaps I wounded your damnable pride?"

"Mhmm," Nadir agreed, all too readily. "You absolutely crushed me, Erik. Now I really don't think I should ever remarry."

Erik chuckled. Nadir supposed Erik noted it as sarcasm and not a lie. For that, he could be thankful. He even allowed himself to laugh quietly along. The laughter died away and Erik's eyes suddenly looked a bit determinedly serious.

"You know, I do think you'd make some lucky woman a wonderful husband," Erik said at long last.

Nadir cocked his head slightly and opened his mouth, about to utter a word or two of thanks, but Erik held up a hand to silence him.

"… Provided you stop taking yourself so seriously. When you actually smile, you're a decent companion, Nadir. But when you aren't smiling…"

He trailed off expressively and Nadir shook his head with silent laughter. Oh, yes, and _Erik_ was the one to take advice from on marriage. He immediately shied away from that thought. He felt so horrible for Erik. He could only imagine such a lonely and wretched existence.

Or could he?

Although not horribly disfigured (Quite the contrary. Nadir was a rather attractive man. Well built, muscular, with exotic eyes and pleasant features…), he knew what it was to be ostracized from the people who were supposed to be his peers. Since Rookheeya's death, Nadir hadn't been particularly close to anyone at Court. And since Erik's arrival in Persia, Nadir had earned himself a reputation that made him out to be something of a madman. You are judged by the company you keep…

"Now what?" Erik asked, studying Nadir's features closely.

"Nothing."

"I know better," Erik said in a sing-song voice. Even in jest, it was a magnificent sound.

"I shouldn't listen to the Prime Minister—or anybody—about the company I keep and that I don't," Nadir said with an uncharacteristic tone of defiance.

"Oh, really?" Erik asked. "Pray tell, how exactly are you going to enforce such a bold ideology? Did you not admit that your entire livelihood hinges on the good favor of your betters?"

Nadir shrugged expressively. "You're my friend, aren't you? That in itself defies everything they want."

"Erik has no friends."

Though Nadir couldn't see his mouth, he was certain Erik was frowning. And yet, when he looked into Erik's eyes, they were shining with unshed tears. Of what, Nadir could not be sure.

"Then what _would_ Erik call me?"

"You are a thorn in Erik's side, Nadir," he said after a moment. "You are a prick, just like every one of these little thorns on this rose."

Erik thrust the rose at Nadir, who caught it clumsily. The thorns pricked the flesh on his fingers and Nadir looked at it, unsure of what to say or do. Then, as though divinely inspired, a serene smile overtook his features and he looked up at Erik.

"You do realize that attached to these thorns, is a rose," he said with a smile. "A beautiful flower."

"Ah, but I am not a rose, Nadir. I'm a thistle. Plain… No, _ugly_."

Nadir shrugged. "Have it your way. You're still stuck with me. We might as well be friends."

Erik snorted. "Oh, yes. That's the spirit. Since we're forced together against our will, we must press on and make the best of it. How optimistic. How _noble._"

"Erik, please. I'm not trying to be noble. I really do consider you a friend. You are, perhaps, the only friend I have in this world."

"You really are a sad, pathetic man, Nadir. A hopeless romantic."

"There's nothing romantic about friendship."

Erik hesitated and then shrugged. "Sentimental, then. Come now, you must have had other friends. As a boy, maybe? In the Court?"

Nadir paused to reflect. No one came to mind. He shook his head with sudden, sad realization. "Friendly acquaintances, of course. But a real, true friend?"

"How can a man as inherently good and honest as you count me—a remorseless monster—as his only friend?" Erik mused aloud in wonder.

Nadir shook his head. "I often wonder the same thing. But, nonetheless, I know it to be true."

Erik smiled under the mask for a moment. It was a fleeting smile, a flash of crooked teeth, and then immediate sobriety. For all of Nadir's own righteousness, he saw Erik as even more self denying than he. It was like pleasure was a painful sensation to Erik, both foreign and frightening. Friendship was a luxury that—until now—he'd never afforded to himself. It made Nadir infinitely sad, and yet, somehow privileged that he was the one and only person in the world that Erik would honor with his friendship.

"You should sleep, Nadir," Erik said abruptly, checking his pocket watch. "It's incredibly late and—according to Darius—Reza has quite the itinerary for us tomorrow."

"What could he possibly have planned?" Nadir asked, raising a brow.

Erik shrugged and put away his watch. "Who knows? He _has_ had something like three months to plot."

Nadir smiled sadly. It seemed that for every month he was home, he spent three at the Court. He always felt like he was missing something important when he was away. Each time he was gone, Reza's illness worsened and often, Nadir thought that, if he was present more often or for longer periods of time, that would fix everything. But even if Reza had been physically well, Nadir supposed that he would be missing something. His boy would have been growing up.

"I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, then," he said softly. He didn't always count on tomorrow coming for his little family, but Nadir saw no reason to say that now. So he swallowed the lump in his throat away and caught Erik's eye again. "Good night."

"_Bonsoir_, Nadir."

Nadir shot him a perplexed look.

"_Bonsoir…_ It means good night. Really, one of these days, I must teach you French… Give you a hobby or something."

Nadir chuckled. "Maybe you should. But not tonight. Bawn Sware, Erik."

Erik grimaced. "Maybe I _shouldn't_ after all."


End file.
